by Ana Shay
She huffed out a laugh, "This is Tate Sorenson we’re talking about, though. Ignoring the nightmare of his ex last year, I’ve never seen anything about his love life. I've never had to clean up one of his messes. Unlike Grayson Hawk, that guy is such a PR nightmare. We tried to impose a twitter ban on him through his contract. That didn’t work."
Shrugging it off, Tate may be near enough squeaky clean, but I’m still not sure if I should go there. No matter how hard his muscles are. "Mhmm. There’s no point. He’ll probably forget about me now since he’s away for five days.” The corner of my mouth slightly trembled, so I took another swig of my coffee. I hated saying it. That Tate could forget about me so quickly, but I had to be realistic.
A small smile played across her lips. "We'll see about that." She smirked as though she knew something I didn't.
When we got into the office, I sat down at my cubicle. "Oh, by the way," Mary says, with a lilt in her voice. "Josh says we don't have the marketing budget to hire another person to play Catty until Tim is better... And since you've managed to amass us all those followers in your first day's debut, he said you have to keep doing it." Amusement mixed with trepidation laced her voice.
I groaned. I was almost sure that would happen, but to have it confirmed like that depresses me. Rubbing my hands over my face, I said, "No! This isn't what I want to do. Not at all."
"Come on. It's not that bad. Your dance moves are fantastic, and the kids love it. Speaking of, we need to take a few photos of Catty around the ballpark today. Do you mind donning the fish for a few hours?" She lifts her eyebrows in question.
"I don't have a choice, do I?” She shook her head. Great. I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't.
My feet tapped quickly against the floor as I rushed back to my desk. After the last few hours dressed as a fish, I checked my phone to see I had some urgent emails from Josh. I needed to get this work done, to prove to him how dedicated I was.
When I got to my desk, I stopped in my tracks, surprised at the sprawling bouquet resting there. Blossoming pink peonies and blue hydrangeas greeted me. I glanced around the office, checking it wasn’t a prank. Edging closer, I saw an ivory note attached to the flowers. Slowly, I plucked the card from the bouquet and opened the envelope.
Cali,
Since you didn’t call or text, I figured you didn’t get my number.
Here it is again, just in case.
Tate.
I stared at his number written at the bottom. It was printed this time which was easier to read than his handwriting. Can’t deny that he’s persistent. My mind drifted to yesterday when he sauntered into the office with all that big dick energy and those cleats. The thought still made me squirm in my panties. Maybe I should give it a shot? If Mary’s right and there’s no problem with it. Why shouldn’t I?
"Cali." I jumped when that familiar angry voice called my name. "Get in here. Now." He enunciated every word like it hurt to say. What have I done now? Plastering on a fake smile, my heart rate increased as I walked to his room, trying to remain positive. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve been working my ass off all day, and I’m just about to start the work he asked for. He’s probably just in a bad mood.
I was wrong. Josh was angry. At me specifically. He spent the better part of an hour lecturing me about protocol and how I broke it because I received a gift (aka flowers) from an external source. I sat there, listening to him talk, never questioning the fact that I've seen several other people receive flowers since he seemed hell-bent on making me feel like shit. He did a pretty good job of it too. By the time he was finished yelling at me, everyone else in the office had gone home. I still had a mountain of work to finish and had to stuff the beautiful flowers under my desk so they wouldn’t offend Josh.
The petals tickled at my legs, reminding me of Tate as I worked. A small comfort when I had a boss who thought I was terrible at everything. I wanted to prove Josh wrong. In fact, I was determined to do it. No matter what it took.
Chapter 6
Sitting in the dugout, I scuff my cleats against the hard floor, something I always do before every game to get me mentally prepared. Scorching Sorenson. That's what ESPN is calling me right now because I'm so hot. In the last three games, I've batted in a combined 15 runs, the highest in the league, and it's where I want to stay. There's already buzz around this being my MVP year, but I'm doing my best to ignore the hype. Every year they get my hopes up, and every year my hot streak ends just in time for another player to take my spot. This is the year I want to go all the way.
Just one bad at bat, and I could go cold. I need this. The crowd jeered at some ruckus at the diamond. As I look up, Catty is interrupting Washington’s warm-up. He’s following Kyle Haward around with a pen in one fin and a board in the other. Kyle seems reluctant to sign the autograph. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I watch the scene unfold.
Catty bounces with excitement when Kyle finally agrees to put pen to paper, signing the bottom corner as instructed. When Kyle’s finished, he had no time to admire his signature because Catty unfolded the board to reveal a giant check.
I barked out a laugh when I saw it was for 330 million dollars. The exact amount Washington paid for Kyle last year. Catty ran and danced across the yard while Kyle strolled after him, unable to keep up. I’m impressed. That Catty costume is heavy, and the guy inside it is running fast. We should get him to pinch run for us sometime.
My mind drifted. I wonder if Cali helped with that stunt? Cali. Why can't I get this girl out of my head? Her blue eyes have captured me like the high tide, and I’m drifting faster into the deep without a life jacket. She didn’t fall at my feet when I asked her out. She hasn’t called even though I’ve given her my number twice. She’s doing everything to let me know she’s not interested, but I’m not letting go. Not just yet. Her heaving chest and roaming gaze told me a completely different story to her actions, and I’m determined to get to the bottom of it.
Sure, I was arrogant enough to think that maybe the first post-it note flew off her phone before she saw it (unlikely in a temperature-controlled office, but stranger things have happened). So I thought it would be good to make sure she got it again, just in case. When I saw the peonies and hydrangeas, I couldn’t help but think of her. Summertime by the beach. I had to get them for her, and they gave me the perfect excuse to write my number down again.
I waited all night for a message from her, thinking she was probably busy at work with that idiot boss of his. There was something I didn’t like about that guy; it was probably the way he threw his weight around like he owned the place. Either way, I thought by the time she got home, she’d take a chance and send me a text. Hell, at this point, I would have settled for a gif or a meme. But she didn’t bother. I knew she got the card this time because the delivery driver took a picture of it on her desk surrounded by memorabilia of me.
Maybe I was playing it wrong. I thought girls liked it when you showed them attention and bought them flowers. Granted, the last time I ‘dated’ someone was when I was eighteen before I met Sam. All I was interested in back then was getting my dick wet and playing in the minors. I haven’t bothered with women since the whole Sam debacle. To say she broke my heart would be a lie. Bruised my ego is closer to the truth. I decided then that I would take a break from women and focus on the game. I did just that for the last year, getting closer and closer to that MVP title every time.
Cali, though.
It was like someone dropped her into my life as a joke. The hottest girl, my biggest fan, yet she seemingly wants nothing to do with me. I’ve never looked at a person and had so many questions running through my mind. I had to pace myself and patiently wait to ask her. I wanted to see if she really was made for me.
“Tate, you’re on deck,” The batboy called, drawing me out of my Cali-filled haze. Right. I need to get in the game. I took a few steps forward, clearing my mind and focusing on the task at hand. Winning.
By the end of the g
ame, I’ve thrown my bat out. Scorchin’ Sorenson might be back in the game. Thoughts of Cali ignited a fire in my ass and made me more determined to show her what I could do for her team.
“Good game,” Mike, our first baseman, clasped my shoulder. Not just good. Great. I balled up the towel in my hand, throwing it in the laundry basket next to me while I mumbled out a short thanks.
“Hey, man,” Grayson called. "We're all going to dinner at Deena's in an hour. Do you want to come?" He nodded towards the group of our teammates, talking and laughing, happy that we won.
Waving him off, I run a hand through my blonde hair. "Yeah, sure. I'll be ready then." I was planning on showering and then going back to the marketing department to see if Cali got my flowers. It’s rude not to check. However, since she’s been ignoring me, I figure I should give her a little time to miss me. We’re home for the rest of the week; I’m sure I’ll be able to come up with some plausible reason why I need to go up there and bug her.
After taking a shower and sticking some aftershave on, I grabbed my bag, striding out of the locker room. I stopped.
Am I seeing things?
Cali is standing in front of me, looking like the tall blonde goddess that she is. Tight pencil skirt, floaty blush blouse, spiked-heel tapping. She’s a dream, fulfilling all kinds of secretary fantasies I didn’t know I had. That outfit against the gray concrete walls feels inappropriate. Out of context almost, and stirring all sorts of thoughts that might show through my jeans soon.
Do those heels make her my height?
Is she wearing a garter under that skirt?
I wonder what it would feel like if with her heels digging into my back?
And now I’m getting impossibly hard thinking about it.
The guys are leering; I can see them at the corner of my eye. "You ready, Sorenson?" Max asks, standing with the players, no doubt salivating over that peachy ass of hers. I'll remember to punch him later for it.
Holding my finger up, I keep my focus on Cali, striding towards her. "Give me a minute." With her pursed lips and crossed arms, I could feel the tension from here. She was ticked. I should stay away, but I can’t stop myself. She’s like a magnet, and I want to get spanked.
"Tate," She said sternly when I got close enough. Her shirt gaped at the front again. Damn those button-up blouses she insisted on wearing. It took all my willpower not to look down and check the color of her bra. I like to think it’s a deep blue to match the intensity in her eyes. She tapped her toe in a slow, pissed-off melody. She really was the perfect height in those. I wouldn’t get neck strain from kissing her, and I could easily grab her ass, haul her up and bang her against a wall.
I really was getting ahead of myself now.
"Cali?" I drawl out, making sure my accent was thick as I smiled back, "Did you lose my number again? Maybe I should get a sharpie and write it on your wrist. Or better yet, tattoo it there." I teased.
Her face reddened as her breath became labored. I wish I had my uniform on because I know that makes it harder for her to avoid me. "That's not why I'm here, and you know it, Tate." I loved the way she said my name. Like it was all hers. She adjusted her shirt, only now realizing the hint of her bra was popping out. It was white, by the way. Disappointing. She was still flustered, and I loved how cute it made her look.
Quirking my brow, I ignored her annoyance."Is it because you wanted me to take you out right now? I wasn’t planning on it, but I know this perfect little Italian spot."
She paused, taking in my words. Then shook her head, flailing her arms dramatically. She looked like one of those dancing balloons at the car wash. I held off laughing because I didn’t think she’d appreciate the resemblance, and I’m still trying to date this girl after all.
The guys watch us from over her shoulder, smirking at my lack of game. "You sent me flowers." She pursed her lips in this cute way that made me want to smash my lips against hers. Strawberry ice cream. I bet that’s what she tastes like.
She jumped when I gently touched her elbow, probably feeling the same electricity as me. Her eyes gazed down at our connection while she let me lead her away from the guys. I wanted to have this conversation in private. Once I found a quiet corner, I leaned down with a smile. “I did send you flowers. Did you like them?”
Her mouth gapes open like a catfish. Even though she stared blankly, I thought she still looked gorgeous. There wasn’t a face that she could pull that would make me believe otherwise, which could be a problem if she’s preparing to reject me again.
She shook her head, placing her hands on my chest, and stared at them for a beat. Her fingers flexed, scratching across my white t-shirt like she was testing out how it felt. Perfect. Hot. Horny. Were all words running through my mind to describe this moment. “That’s not the point,” She whispered. So that’s a yes, she did like them. “The point is you can’t send me those anymore.” Remorse was thick in her voice. Why is she fighting this so hard? I can’t be the only one feeling the attraction between us.
Tilting my head, I studied her face, noticing she's got this cute little birthmark under her eye and her full lips have this pretty little bow on the top. "Why not? I thought you deserved them. The blue in the hydrangeas reminded me of your eyes."
A small smile played on her lips; she melted at that. But quickly covered her expression with a hard-line instead. "You can't send me those." She stressed, as though she's confirming it to herself as well.
"I'm hearing a lot of things I can't do but no reason why?"
She looked around, leaning in so only I could hear. "You're getting me in trouble,"
Trouble? Pinching my eyebrows. "Why?"
"I can't receive gifts to the office."
I smiled smugly, "I've got an easy fix for that; you could give me your number, and then I won't have to send anything to the office."
She shook her head again, freezing because she noticed her hands were still relaxing on my chest. Flexing her fingers slightly, her nails scratched in the most torturous way. She snatched her hands away like she was touching hot coal. "Look, you need to stop. Nothing can happen between us.” She said more sternly. Did she forget that I was an athlete and competition was in my blood? “I'm not interested in you." She shuddered, refusing to look me in the eyes and chewing her bottom lip like it was a chocolate bar. It was easy to see it killed her saying that.
Before I could apologize for coming on too strong and telling her I'd back off (for now), she's gone, leaving me with just the click of her heels in the distance.
Slowly turning around, I walked over to my teammates, trying to figure out what just happened. My teammates looked sympathetic when I got to them. Grayson blew out a breath after some awkward silence. “I told you not to let anyone see your dick in the light.” He sighed, breaking the tension and making our teammates laugh.
"It wasn’t that,” I answered back. “I just bought her flowers." Still trying to process what happened.
Shaking his head, Grayson walks beside me. "This is why I stay away from relationships. They get in the way, take up too much mental capacity, and pull your head out of the game. Can't win with them. " Maybe he's right; in two short minutes, Cali had my balls shriveling into nothing when she told me to back off. Not that I’m going to listen.
"Thank God you're not married," Mike interjected. "You'd be a terrible husband."
"Exactly why I'm not." Grayson chuckled. “Not one woman deserves this.” He showcased himself. “They all do.”
There was a unison of groans at Grayson’s remark. “Come on, guys. I need a cheesesteak tonight.” I said, looking forward to the one woman who never disappointed, Deena’s restaurant.
Chapter 7
Sweat dripped down my face, but I couldn't do anything to get rid of it because Catty's stupid head was in the way. How do all those characters at Disney world keep up the charade in the Florida heat? Honestly, I'm considering just wearing a bikini under this next time. I'm already drenched in sweat; my clothes are
ruined. At least that's supposed to be wet.
It's been a long game, and I swear Josh is punishing me. The first couple of times I was Catty, I only came out for the beginning of the game and then for two innings. It gave me a little time to cool down and mentally prepare for the next outing. Since Catty’s popularity has soared, Josh has forced me to go out for the entire nine innings. Nine Innings! That’s a long-ass time. Today, one-half of those nine innings took 40 minutes to finish. It's like Josh wanted me to faint so I’d quit, or he could put me on unpaid medical leave.
We're in the bottom of the ninth, and I've walked out. Too tired to stay and watch the last few at bats. I relaxed down on a sofa next to the locker room, still in my costume. Just as I'm about to take the catfish head off, I decide better of it. The idea of Tate seeing me like this would be horrific. Although, I guess it doesn't matter now. He's backed off. Just like I asked him to. No surprise office visits or gifts. It’s like none of it happened.
It’s been a week since I have spoken to him, and I won’t admit it out loud, but I kind of miss him. We didn’t date. I made sure to cut it short before we had the chance, but I liked the attention. Okay, Okay, I loved the attention. Mainly because it was him.
Tate Sorenson. My dream guy is still so far out of reach because I have to pick between my dream job and my dream guy. Mary may say there are no rules against it, but Josh has definitely been less of an ass since I stopped getting the attention. Granted, he’s still not pleasant, but it’s just about survivable now. And if I have to pick between Tate and my internship, I have to pick my job. Right?
Yes.
I keep reminding myself that experience is essential. A job is more stable. You get out what you put in. With a job, you know where you stand. With Tate, I risk my job, my future career, and my reputation. What if all he wants is a one-night stand? To bed his biggest fan. Giving up everything for a quick lay wouldn’t be the smartest idea.